


make a fool out of death (with your beauty)

by winkthusiast



Category: Wanna One (Band)
Genre: 4walls as models, M/M, The Neon Demon!AU, again i have no idea what this is, apologies in advance, i just wanted to get this out of my head, unhhh i have no idea what this is
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-04
Updated: 2019-08-04
Packaged: 2020-07-31 08:10:36
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,669
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20111917
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/winkthusiast/pseuds/winkthusiast
Summary: Jihoon begins to pull back the veil of delusion and finds that the villain is a gigantic camera lens— and his reflection consumes the entire frame.





	make a fool out of death (with your beauty)

act one: jihoon

* * *

As he's laid out on the cold surface of the sleek black linoleum floors, limbs twisted into an uncomfortable yet (what he hopes passes for) an avant-garde pose— Park Jihoon thinks this truly isn't a bad way to kickstart his dream career. He squints a little and sees his distorted reflection up on the ceiling, barely covered by tattered clothes and an odd puddle of blood pooling on the back of his head like some twisted kind of halo. The studio is quiet, save for the occasional clicking of the shutter, cueing him to strike a different pose every time. He feels their eyes on him, and he ravishes in the feeling of being seen— the mere validation of being able to hold people's attention giving him the type of high he so constantly craves. In an industry where conventional attractiveness is a commodity, being casted and chosen as the main character, so to speak, of a shoot is a pretty big deal if he must say so himself. Given that he's only seventeen years old, the whole world of modeling is his oyster— a world he's yet to conquer.

Four minutes and countless poses later sees Jihoon in the bathroom scrubbing away spots of red makeup off of where it has clung (and been applied) to different parts of his body. The harsh fluorescent lighting of the bathroom does little to hide a hard day's work off of his clearly fatigued face. There's nothing he wants more than to be able to go home— but home, as alluring as the thought of it is, is pretty far from where he is now. Having moved from Masan six weeks ago into a dingy motel with a mattress that feels like it's been stuffed with gravel instead of feathers only seeks to amplify his longing to just get on a bus headed home to sleep on his familiar, worn-out bed. But he supposes he's gone too far to back out now. He's only just begun to pursue what he hopes is a straight path to success.

He's jolted out of his thoughts by the sound of the door of the bathroom stall being slammed close, and out walks a man he assumes is not much older than him, all sharp edges and piercing eyes that hold promises of nothing but danger.

"It's pretty painful for me to watch you just scrub off my masterpiece, you know." said man says, and it takes Jihoon a while to realize he's actually the one being spoken to. Tilting his head quizzically at the man's reflection in the wide bathroom mirror, Jihoon purses his lips and internally debates with himself on the merits and demerits of stranger danger. "I'm Ong Seongwu, by the way. I'm the one that did your makeup earlier, if you've already forgotten."

"Sorry. This whole day's just been pretty fucking hectic for me." Jihoon says, and the lie slides off his tongue with practiced ease. Truthfully, he's never paid much attention to anyone other than himself when he's having his makeup done. Something about the process of his transformation is just mesmerizing to him, akin to watching magic being performed, albeit on his face.

"It's fine. I never expected someone as beautiful as you to remember me anyway. Hell, most of the models I've worked with never do." Seongwu assures him, and he preens a little at the other's compliment. Jihoon, now on the process of wiping lipstick off his lips, only raises an eyebrow in question. Seongwu doesn't answer for a few moments, only staring at the model's face so intently, Jihoon thinks he might just bore a hole into the side of his face.

"Sorry, was I staring? Occupational hazard. Here, let me help you take the rest of it off." Seongwu apologizes and moves to take a wet wipe from the pouch laid out in front of Jihoon. "So i'm assuming you're not from here? You smell faintly of new blood." He smirks at the irony as he begins wiping some of the fake blood off the nape of Jihoon's neck.

"Yeah, I just moved here six weeks ago from Masan." Jihoon replies, the beginnings of a blush making its way across his cheeks, presumably from the unsolicited intimacy.

"Not much of a modeling scene i'm guessing?" Seongwu asks and Jihoon bites back the urge to tell him it's a town suspended in amber where time passes by like treacle and nothing worthwhile truly happens, only opting to nod at the other instead. Once he's finished, Seongwu moves in front of Jihoon and starts wiping makeup off his cheeks, making their height difference prominent, with Seongwu only almost a head taller than him. Again, Jihoon fights back the urge to blush at their proximity, which the other doesn't seem to mind.

"Your skin is perfect. Look at you." the taller starts to whisper, surprising Jihoon yet again. "I don't even think you're human. If i killed you, would you die?"

Liquid terror chases itself up and down the model's spine as he tries his best to ignore the slow, heady creeping of arousal making itself known.

When Seongwu invites him to a party only moments later, he finds himself agreeing despite his reservations.

* * *

act two: seongwu

It's unnerving, how well Jihoon fits into the party scene, despite his constant deer in the headlights look. The boy looks ethereal bathed in the flickering neon lights of the dance floor, light playfully bouncing off his eyes as though they held the same glitter themselves. He's breathtaking, to say the least— and Seongwu knows that Jihoon knows. It's evident in the way he carries himself, which Seongwu can only describe as playfully ironic; how he's somehow shy and confident at the same time— brazen yet contained. It's jarring to see in action, and he supposes he's but one of the many Jihoon has managed to enrapture. A part of him is hesitant to introduce Jihoon to Minhyun and Daniel, reluctant to share the model's attention with the other two— but a part of him also wants to boast to the two about this gorgeous boy he's somehow managed to meet.

He gets his decision made for him, however, when he sees Kang Daniel making his way across the dance floor towards Jihoon, looking every bit like a hungry predator waiting to sink his teeth into his chosen prey. He watches the scene unfold from afar with equal amount of trepidation and excitement. Ashamed as he is to admit, he's always had a little thing for Daniel, a small bud of a crush he's never quite watered and given sunlight for fear of being rejected. With Jihoon, another person he feels the same weird attraction as he does with Daniel, in the picture, Seongwu's mind is nearly crashing trying to calculate all the delectable possibilities.

"Looks like Daniel's already acquainting himself with your new pet." A familiar soft voice beside him teases. He doesn't have to look to know it's Hwang Minhyun in all his regal glory, ever the unrelenting pressure that seeks to test his patience and sanity.

"I'm aware. Thanks for stating the obvious." He replies, rolling his eyes at Minhyun's teasing smirk.

"Not feeling any bit possessive? He's really fucking pretty after all. Maybe even prettier than me." At this Seongwu laughs. Minhyun's basically handed him an opening on a silver platter.

"He is prettier than you. He has a certain something you've lost quite a long time ago. I believe it's called youthfulness?" he watches with perverse glee as the other's face slowly darkens, knowing full well he's hit a nerve.

"You're an ass, I can't believe I still hang out with you." Minhyun replies, voice trembling as he hurriedly tries to leave the club. Seongwu would try to deny it, but knows he is— an ass, that is, and so he watches helplessly as Minhyun leaves, unsaid apologies leaving a bitter, acrid taste in his mouth. He chases them down with more alcohol and tries to think of ways to make it up to the other as he does.

* * *

That night Seongwu dreams for the first time in a long time. He dreams he's in what he assumes is Jihoon's apartment; sparsely decorated, littered with half-open boxes and hints of Jihoon's personal belongings scattered here and there. On a coffee table he spies prints of their last photoshoot, only instead of Jihoon, it's Minhyun in the pictures. He's instantly assaulted by images— no, they seem way too familiar to be projections— memories of beating Minhyun to death. His head starts to spin as more memories of him decorating Minhyun with the rouge of his own blood fill his senses. Echoes of what seems to be his own maniacal laughter start to reverberate inside his head as he's filled and blinded with white-hot rage. He claws at the walls and start to wreak havoc inside the barely lived-in place. 

* * *

The next time he sees Jihoon is on his way to iron out the details of his latest gig— to do makeup for some big-shot designer's fashion week show. They coincidentally cross paths two blocks away from the venue and he learns that the Jihoon is on his way to audition for the casting of runway models. The latter is visibly excited, almost giddy, at the thought of possibly being casted to walk in a fashion show, and he tells Seongwu so the minute he gets the chance.

On anyone else, this naive act probably won't sell, but on Jihoon, the sight is so incredibly apt he almost buys it— almost. As they both enter the building, he bids Jihoon good luck despite knowing he won't need it, and he catches the smallest hint of a smirk playing on Jihoon's face as he turns to walk towards the room where casting is. He stamps down on the urge to carve a permanent smirk on Jihoon's face and hauls ass towards one of the conference rooms.

**Author's Note:**

> i'm an absolute clown and this fic is my lovechild with a venti iced coffee. that being said, i'm almost finished writing act four. it's literally 3:57am here. please send help.
> 
> twt: @nwthusiast


End file.
